The House of Shadows.
171
Then sate on the cushioned divan,
Gazed on the tapestried wall,
Read listless the titles of books
Through mist of tears that would fall;
Gazed on the tapestried wall,
Read listless the titles of books
Through mist of tears that would fall;
There mused till the twilight entered,
Drew shadow leaves faint on the floor,
And folded the thirsty petals
Of lily and madrigore,
That swooned in pots on the terrace,
Begrimed with dust of the street:
Forgotten, neglected, they also
Struck down by summer's fierce heat.
Drew shadow leaves faint on the floor,
And folded the thirsty petals
Of lily and madrigore,
That swooned in pots on the terrace,
Begrimed with dust of the street:
Forgotten, neglected, they also
Struck down by summer's fierce heat.
Anon the monks began chanting
Their Avé at dusky day;
I knew it was time to be going
To my home just over the way.
Only one moment I lingered,
To watch the moon from that room,
Climb over the Pitti's turret,
Throw an arrow on the gloom.
Their Avé at dusky day;
I knew it was time to be going
To my home just over the way.
Only one moment I lingered,
To watch the moon from that room,
Climb over the Pitti's turret,
Throw an arrow on the gloom.
Not long on the terrace I lingered,
Turning bewildered, aghast,—
Empty, echoing, were the rooms
Through which my steps had just passed.
Turning bewildered, aghast,—
Empty, echoing, were the rooms
Through which my steps had just passed.
